More Tales from the Black Millenium
by Michael Khale
Summary: Wherein Blackadder meets Ciaphas Cain. Hilarity ensues.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Lord Blackadder stared wordlessly at the black, sooty mess in the ship hall that completely coated both Baldrick and Percy – no doubt another one of their cunning plans - before retreating into the mess room, nearly bowling over a one of the Navy ensigns as he did so.

"Another helping of your finest slop, Mrs. Miggins," he yawned, "And some of that fine recaf we liberated from that chaos cult. I could use something nice to jump start my day for a change."

"Dear, dear me, I'm afraid we're all out of the recaf today, Edmund." Mrs. Miggins giggled. "That stunning young corporal who just left took my last pot of the best stuff."

"Son of a grox fondler!" Edmund snarled. "Out of my way!"

Like a storming storm, Lord Blackadder stormed out of the mess and followed the footprints in Baldrick's soot through several floors to the officer's rooms. He ducked into the cramped quarters and noted with satisfaction that the coffee bearer was a low ranking officer.

"Attention!"

One of the lieutenants standing outside his room had caught sight of him and everyone within earshot immediately dropped what they were doing and stood at attention. Blackadder took advantage of the halt in activity to stride up to the coffee bearer and lift the coffee pot out of his hands.

"And that is mine, thank you." He snapped, turning around briskly.

"But sir! Commissar Cain is going to arrive in a few hours, and we'll need good coffee at his reception." The corporal stuttered. "I was told me to get the room ready!"

"Well you'll have to find a way to do it without my recaf then, won't you? Show him the common stuff or throw some tea on the pot, but stay away from my coffee or I'll have you shot, then transferred to Cadia - and believe me, it can be arranged, so sod off and make do."

Honestly, why did his men find it so hard to understand that he needed something nice to jump start his day of dealing with General Sir Anthony "Insanity" Cecil Hogmonay Melchett, Commissar "It's a bloody decimation if you jump back one inch" George St. Barleigh, Sanctioned Psyker the Lord "Percy" Percy, and Gunner Baldrick, the Emperor-cursed bane of his existence.

Blackadder kicked open the door to his office and slammed the coffee pot on his desk, at least ready to start the day. He had just started his first cup of soothing beverage when the annoyingly cheerful voice of Commissar George shot through the office.

"Tally ho, Blackadder! I say, isn't it absolutely spiffing that Commissar Cain is going to visit us! Positively corking, I must say I feel like a wine bottle that's been corked by an Ogryn."

"Yes, thanks for the imagery George." Blackadder sighed, bracing himself with a sip of recaff for yet another overenthusiastic speech about the glorious greatness of Commissar Ciaphas Cain, Hero of the Imperium.

"Oh, I shall laugh when he jokes, how I shall cry when he tells his noble tales of heroism, how I shall obey unquestioningly when he orders me onto glory!" George continued blithely. "To serve the Emperor under his command shall be an honor! Why, even you sir, hero that you are, are no match for Commissar Cain! Now, now sir, don't be upset," George cautioned.

"Why would I be upset about that huge prat?" Blackadder panted, face reddening as he rose and started pacing around the rose. "If he wants to be such an attention hog, then by the Emperor he can have all the ha- ha- haaaa…"

Blackadder's breath heaved as his legs gave out from under him and fell face down into the shag rug on the floor.

"Colonel! Colonel!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey."

Somewhere in Blackadder's unconscious mind, a thought stirred. As he slowly awoke, he realized that there was something wrong. He could hear voices, smell the cold, septic air of the medical ward, and feel the warm sheets under him, but he saw only darkness. Then he realized that was because he had not opened his eyes.

His eyelids slowly opened to see a familiar, blurred figure looming above him.

"Got your nose," the figure mocked, nipping Blackadder's nose between two fingers and pushing the tip of his thumb between the fingers, as if Blackadder was some child. "Got your nose. Do you want it back?"

"George, stop arsing about up there and tell me what just happened," Blackadder snapped as he reacognized the figure. A Commissar might have the right to execute him at a whim, but mocking was something Blackadder would not put up with.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not the Commissar." The figure pried open Blackadder's eyelids and inspected his pupils with a flashlight. "Gregor House, Medicae."

"No need to apologized, believe me." Blackadder sighed in relief. "So, give it to me straight doc: how long have I got?"

"Ooh, I don't know. A case like yours? I'd say maybe eighty, a hundred years tops unless you get shot or something."

Medicae House picked up a coffee mug lying on the bedside table and inhaled deeply.

"Mmm. You just got to love the smell of Pryscura in the morning. Common byproduct of the Promethium refining process. Cheap to obtain, easy to apply. Tastes pretty sweet, so you just toss it onto the victim's food and wait for his sweet tooth to do the rest."

"Well, I feel fine right now, unless this is some sort of deathbed hallucination. Which would explain why the breath monster and Commissar peabrain haven't been pestering me yet."

"Yes, well I'm afraid you aren't so lucky. Whoever poisoned your coffee was being particularly thick about it. Sipping hot coffee means that you only take a small dose of Pryscura at a time, so it kicks into effect before you take a lethal dose, and heat has this annoying tendency to cause toxins to break down."

The medicae set aside the cane he had been using and sat down on the table beside him.

"So come on and spill. Who could hate the infamous Colonel Blackadder enough to poison him? Got any bodies in your closet? Bee in your bonnet? Heresy in your trunk? Or did you run out of sugar and decide that Pryscura would just have to do."

"Tell me, doctor, is this insolence covered by my health plan, or am I paying extra for it?"

"Actually, there's a ten throne co-op. Now let's get back on topic, shall we?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it past Baldrick to do something man's the galaxy's worst cook. Had to torture a Dark Eldar pirate that wouldn't respond to beatings, so I made him eat Baldrick's cooking for a week and he broke down like a little girl." Blackadder shifted in the bed and moved to get out. "If you'll excuse me, doctor, I must forsake your refreshing and entirely uplifting brand of personal abuse to throttle the bastard for nearly poisoning me to…"

Blackadder squinted at the coffee mug the doctor was holding, mouth left handing in the hair.

"Hang on a moment, Baldrick didn't make my coffee today. I nicked it from some prat who was about to send it to Cain. Bloody hell, of all the luck! If I'd just have left him be I'd -"

"Not have saved the life of the most heroic man in the galaxy," George finished, striding into the room. "Bloody hell, imagine that! Colonel Blackadder, saving the life of Commissar Cain! The papers will eat this one right up!"

"Of course, George. Nothing would have pleased me more." Blackadder deadpanned, hoping there was enough Pryscura left in the coffee for a fatal dose.

"This is going to be fun." House smirked, obviously enjoying Blackadder's displeasure.

Blackadder ignored him and resumed talking to George.

"So what do you think about it all - pardon the exaggeration, of course."

"I think you're a bloody hero, sir."

"No, what do you think will happen? What kind of investigation, who would want to bump off Cain, etc, etc. What are they saying on the ship?"

"Well, sir," George began, "It's rather funny you should mention an investigation, because as of this moment, the Inquisition has started rounding up suspects. It turns out we had a trio of Inquisitors traveling incognito as three holofilm actors doing research on the life of a Guardsman for their latest film. I hope this investigation won't delay production – I was so looking forward to _The Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer: The Movie in 3D_."

Blackadder raised an eyebrow with practiced grace. "Well! I can honestly say that I wasn't expecting the Inquisition."

"Nobody expects the Emperor's Inquisition!" An ornately robed woman shouted as she burst through the medical ward's doors, followed closely by two others. "Our chief weapons are surprise, fear, a ruthless efficiency, and a fanatical devotion to the Emperor!"

"And those nice red uniforms, I'm sure," Blackadder deadpanned. "Hello, auntie."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Wicked child!" The woman roared, marching up to Blackadder's bed and slapping him on the head. "The title 'Aunt' implied that I had a life before joining the Inquisition, and as we all know, life implies having duties to others besides the Emperor, and having duties to those who are not the Emperor is clearly a sin!"

She backhanded him for good measure and continued. "Now be a good boy like that cousin of yours – Eomer, was it? – and say hello to your uncle."

"Good morning, uncle. How's the vow of silence going?" Without waiting for a reply, Blackadder continued on. "Aunt, Uncle, may I introduce Commissar George, and Medicae House. House, George, my Aunt Gertrude and Uncle Thomas Whiteadder, the most fanatical Imperialists in the Segmentum*, along with…"

Edmund trailed off as he noticed a third, unfamiliar Inquisitor.

"Amberley Vail," she politely filled in for him.

"An honor to meet you all," George bowed. "Really corking, I must say. Can't wait until I tell my families about this – we still talk about how you purged Skadenvald last Emperormas of those filthy cute, fluffy, cuddly xenos forests scum who were encroaching upon the Emperor's sacred domains."

"Charmed." House grinned wolfishly and kissing Inquisitor Amberley on the hand, eliciting a strong look of disapproval from the Whiteadders, though she found it rather amusing.

"Yes, yes, now if we can get on to the more important matter of who is trying to poison me, it would be much appreciated," Edmund remained them, annoyed at George's blathering and House's lechery. "Did anyone find out who was supposed to be in charge of recaf today?"

"Yes, actually." Gertrude nodded. "James Foner, Corporal. Dead, stabbed multiple times, body found in a sealed storage bin. Someone noticed that it was leaking blood and decided to investigate. Clearly, we have an assassin on board."

"I say, rather smashing, isn't it?" George perked up remarkably upon hearing the news. "Just what we needed to break up the monotony aboard the ship! A good sleuthing will do the trick, I'm sure. If the Inquisition needs any help just sign me up and I'll be good to go!"

"Which planet did we recruit him from?" House whispered to Edmund.

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Maybe someone thought it was a good idea to visit Stupidia?"

* * *

There have been numerous attempts on my life over the many, many years I have spent as a Commissar, so it came as no suprise to me that something had happened aboard the _Imperial Revenant_ after I had boarded. According to Amberley, a Guard colonel had intercepted a pot of recaf intended for the conference room and ended up being poisoned by it. He was currently in stable condition, and would hopefully be able to help capture the assassin before we had to confront the Orks.

As always, Jurgen had kept a thermos of hot tanna leaf tea on his person, which helped me relax at the thought that, somewhere on the ship, was someone who's expressed purpose was to kill me. The trace amounts of caffeine in the tea also helped me stay awake during the monotonous droning of General Melchett, a staff officer who had obviously risen to his current position through virtue of heredity, upbringing, and an enormous moustache.

Bored with the general's endless droning on the strategic situation, I turned to my left and once again admired the form of Colonel Kasteen, who was sitting beside me as usual during briefings. Her vivid blue eyes were glazed over like many others there, clearly desperate for something more eventful.

Well, it wasn't long before we got our wish, because just as Melchett finished reporting on the latest territorial losses by the PDF, explosions rang throught the ship, sending the entire conference room into disarray. I instinctively threw myself on top of Kasteen in order to shield her against any debris and drew my laspistol in case something had boarded.

"What happen?" I heard Melchett shout, over the wailing sirens.

"Someone set up us the bomb," I thought I heard his aide shout from beneath him. "We get signal!"

"What?" Melchett asked, smoothing out his mustache in anxiety.

"Main screen turn on."

The holofield shuddered for a moment before coming back to life and projecting the image of a tall, thin blue alien.

"It's you!" Melchett shouted at the Tau figure.

"How are you gentlemen?" It asked, in heavily accented Gothic. "All your base are belong to us. You are on the way to destruction."

"What you say?"

"You have no chance to survive, make your time. Ha Ha Ha Ha…" The Tau figure laughed and faded away.

I believe I was the first to speak after the transmission.

"That was the strangest Tau message I have ever encountered. Usually they try to sucker us into the whole 'Greater Good' thing like used aircar salesmen."

Melchett shrugged as he slid back onto his chair.

"Doesn't matter what they're acting like, they're damn xenos and must be purged from the Imperium like the stain that they are! They may have caught us with our pants down, but we will not let this go unpunished. Sabotage and a pretty damn clear indication that they've started attacking our bases. We've got to move in and take them out pronto – them and those damn Orks, in the Emperor's name. For great justice!"

"Commissar," Kasteen whispered to me, as Melchett raged on, "You can get off me now."

* * *

*You have **NO** idea.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"We're going down!" The medicae inspecting Edmund's vital signs cried in panic and made a mad dash for the door. He flailed about wildly as the explosions wracked the ship, crashing into several carts of expensive looking equipment before finally running headfirst into the chief of the ward.

"Now calm down there, Shirley," the chief mocked. "While I sure you find it hi-i-ilarious to show the patients your hall of fame panic attack, this is a medical facility and if you wouldn't recklessly endanger the people whose lives I've been trying to save, thank you very much Wendell. Now, if you think you can stay sane enough to continue your duties while they fix this ship, Gertrude, I'd appreciate it very much if you'd stop screaming like the little girl that you are and get back to work."

What followed was perhaps the longest, coldest stare given by one man to another since the Emperor had faced off against Horus. Edmund took notes.

"Sorry," the medicae apologized sheepishly, as he walked back to Edmund's bed. "First time I've been in combat."

"Well, then maybe you should consider a darker shade of pants," Edmund advised, sitting up and stretching his arms. "Can I go now?"

"Well… yes, but don't you think it'd be safer to stay inside until they get the situation out there under control?"

"Yes, but the outside has the wonderful advantage of not being run by jerkass medical personnel, so you'll forgive me if I say that I'll take my chances with an explosion."

With that, Edmund pushed the young medicae aside and strolled out into the pandemonium of the ship's hallway.

* * *

"Percy! Percy!" Edmund yelled, banging on the psyker's door. "Open up and tell me what the Warp is going on! Are we under attack, or has the machine spirit decided to develop a particularly bad case of whooping cough? "

The door opened to reveal Percy and Baldrick, both fluttering about in a state of extreme panic. To Edmund's great misfortune, they both proceeded to cling to him for support, babbling almost incoherently about sabotage. With great effort, Edmund detached Percy from his arm and kicked Baldrick away so that he could sit down on Percy's bed.

"Sabotage, you say. Well, I guess it was to be expected. First the poisoning, and now this. Probably the same person too. Bastard is ruining my day." Edmund groaned, helping himself to a generous amount of Percy's amasec. "I tell you, the poisoning made this personal, and the bombings make this… _really_ personal! I am going to get that traitorous traitor and do things to him with a radish that would make Slaneesh himself blush in shame and mortification."

"A wonderful plan, my lord, as always," Baldrick fawned. "Though as we are currently having somewhat of a radish shortage, may I be so bold as to suggest the use of a turnip? I have one in particular that may be of some use to you, for it is shaped exactly like a -"

"That will be all, Baldrick." Edmund cut off hastily. "I'll just keep that filed away under the things 'I never wanted to know' portion of my memory. And now, since Percy looks like he'll burst if I don't let him say what's on his mind, I think I'll just focus on the marginally less idiotic one for now."

"Edmund, Edmund, how fortunate it is that I, the Lord Percy Percy, am descended from a long line of individuals with… The Gift!" Percy pronounced proudly.

"What, you mean the possession of an Ogryn-like level of intelligence?"

"No, Edmund, the other gift, the ability to sense that which is hidden in a person's mind! To peer into the depths of their ocular orbs and divine the motivations of their behaviors! To detect falsehood and duplicity by mere presence of being! The Gift!"

"Good Emperor, do you mean to tell me that you can find out who's been inconveniencing me all day?"

"Yes, Edmund, just get me close enough to whoever it is and I can sense him out for you!"

Edmund settled back in the bed comfortably. "Tempting. Of course, it's a pretty big ship, and most of it's damaged and sealed off…"

"Fear not, my lord, for I have a cunning plan!" Baldrick announced helpfully, ducking the empty glass of amasec that was thrown at him for his efforts. "You see, as my dad always said, never sleep where you laid the train tracks, on account of my uncle having done so once and turning out very unfortunately for it. So, it strikes me that as this man has blown up parts of the ship, he won't be at those parts, but rather in the parts he did not blow up so he can continue sausagedogging the ship."

In contrast to the chaos outside, there was only silence in the room as Edmund made a note of the first genuinely good idea to come out of Baldrick's mouth since he had decided to cough up a small squig that had lodged itself in his throat fifteen years ago.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

After the initial explosions, things had calmed down somewhat. As per standard emergency protocol, the general staff and I found ourselves herded out of the meeting room and towards a more secure area of the ship, incase the attacks were not yet over. As we were bundled through smoke laden, alarm filled corridors, I could not help but wonder aloud why the Tau had decided to attack us in such an unusual way.

"You're still not reading the briefing slates, are you?" Major Brokaw smiled as we staggered into an emergency stairwell. "Due to the tardiness of the Imperium's response, an increasing number of PDF have defected to the Tau in hopes of protection. I can only assume that as a result, the Tau view the annexation of Tarantalus as the next logical step. As for the desperate acts of underhandedness, well, maybe the fact that you're arriving on the scene has got them panicking, O' Hero of the Imperium."

"Are you ever going to let me live that down?" I replied, remembering that he probably still had a copy of that ridiculous recruiting poster with my image on it.

We were filing out three stories up and on our way to an untouched cargo bay, so I held the door open for her as a courtesy. Before we could exit however, a panicking psyker pushed his way past the people ahead of us flung himself into the stairwell, babbling incoherently as he did so. I grabbed him and managed to bring him back to his senses with a sharp slap to the cheek, which regretfully made his message more coherent.

"There've set up a bomb here! It's going to go off in two minutes, and that was three minutes ago!"

* * *

"Once we capture this bastard, I'll probably get a nice thank you from Segmentum command as well as a fat, juicy promotion. I'll be able to retire to some cushy desk job at HQ and, most importantly, rub it in Darling's face." Edmund rubbed his hands gleefully, as Percy swept the unaffected areas of the ship.

"Percy, I really must thank you for helping me with this. Why don't you do this sort of thing more often?"

"Well, Edmund, you know how command gets about me using my powers more than absolutely necessary. It's like they think I'll get possessed if I start exercising them with any regularity. That and it occasionally causes people's heads to explode."

Edmund recoiled noticeably at the last statement and hastily put Baldrick between him and Percy as the trio swept yet another hallway. This time, the hallway led past a flight of emergency stairs and ended in a cargo bay.

"Empty, but traces of emotion linger in this place." Percy announced, as they drew closer. "He panicked over something. Frustration as well. Finally… satisfaction and happiness. Odd."

"Can't hurt to have a look." Edmund suggested, punching in the access code. The doors slowly hissed open to reveal mountains of crates stacked against one another under dim, flickering lights.

As Edmund looked around, he saw that one of the crates on the left side of the room had had its side torn out. He motioned for the other two to follow him and they cautiously tread into the badly lit room.

"What do you think was in the crate, my lord?" Baldrick asked, as he shone a flashlight into the crate, revealing tarp covered object. "Was he smuggling something?"

"The answer to your questions shall soon be apparent, Baldrick, as I pull the coverings off of the lumpy thing." Edmund answered nonchalantly, uncovering it in one smooth motion.

"What is it, my lord?" Baldrick asked, seeing that it was in fact several barrels wired together with a large digital clock on top.

"This, Baldrick, is the answer to the question of why this part of the ship was not attacked," Edmund explained. "You see this area was not left untouched so that the saboteur could have a safe spot to hide. Quite the opposite: it was probably unexploded because the bomb malfunctioned and had to be repaired. This means that in less than two and a half minutes, we will be blown to bits unless we can defuse the bomb."

"Right, well best of luck to you then, goodbye Edmund, it's been nice knowing you!" Percy pushed past Baldrick and made a mad dash for the exit, leaving Edmund and Baldrick in the room.

"Right Balders, it's just you and me. Got any more bright ideas, genius?" Edmund sniped, as he drew out a Cadian army knife and unfolded the screwdriver attachment. "Don't answer that, just watch my back as I try to fix this situation brought on, as usual, by my listening to your cunning plans when I should have known better."

He quickly found a panel above the timer and started work.

"Now, seeing as we will likely not be able to outrun this thing, and since the ship will probably go down with another explosion even if we do, I submit that our only course of action is to somehow defuse this thing without any training and relying solely on the blessings of the Emperor, a man known for hating my guts."

One screw was removed, and there were three to go. The timer showed two minutes left

"All, however, is not lost, as I have picked up though association some defusing tips that may assist us in this time of need."

Two screws were off, and there were two minutes left.

"Now, to make things easier for the bomb maker, detonators often have color coded wires. The standard convention is to have the wire leading from the timer to the bomb colored red. It is vitally important that we cut the right wire, because cutting the wrong one will send off as signal to the bomb telling it to blow up in our faces. This is a bad thing."

All four screws had been removed, and Edmund hastily pried off the panel and tossed it aside.

"Now, all the wires I see in this bomb are green, which means that this thing is very poorly designed and was most defiantly not made to be user friendly. We have one-half minutes left to cut the right wire, and there are twelve of them. Just wonderful."

"Perhaps we could remove the batteries, my lord?" Baldrick suggested, peeking over Edmund's shoulder.

"And then maybe we can plug them into your head to give your brain some much needed juice?" Edmund shot back, frantically untangling the wires. "Aha! There are only three wires connecting to the timer! There is yet hope!"

"One minute, my lord." Baldrick noted nervously.

"Here goes nothing." Edmund picked the wire that looked to be the best candidate, closed his eyes and cut it. He opened them to see the timer continue its march towards detonation.

"Oh feth…" Edmund quickly put the knife to another wire, his hands trembling as he did so. "Is it this one or the other?"

"Just choose! Cut one!" Balrick shouted. "I don't want to die!"

Edmund jerked his hand upwards, and the wire fell apart, but the timer remained unchanged. Fifteen seconds to detonation.

"My lord, I am sorry for getting you into this, and I want you to know that it was the greatest honor of my life to serve with you." Baldrick saluted, as the timer dropped to ten and below.

"Balrick, I want you to know that my only regret was that I DIDN'T HATE YOU MORE!!!" Edmund yelled, wrapping his hands around Baldrick's throat. "You miserable fething piece of frak!"

Edmund continued strangling Baldrick for a long time before realizing that they were still alive, albeit barely in Baldrick's case. A quick glance at the timer revealed that, though the timer had reached zero, and the bomb had not gone off.

"Silly me," Edmund shook his head. "Of course cutting the right wire didn't turn off the timer. That only happens in holo-dramas."

At that moment, Percy rushed back in to the cargo bay, followed by several ranking officers and a techpriest, who promptly pushed his way to the bomb and began a series of ministrations to the bomb.

"Fear not Edmund, we're here to save you!" Percy announced proudly, striking what would have been a heroic poise if it hadn't been for his psychic hood.

"Good job, Percy. Instead of bringing in the cavalry so that they could defuse the bomb on time, you arrived late and could have killed several Imperial officers. Are you proud of yourself?"

"Extremely so, Edmund!" Percy responded. "But it looks like you don't need the help here at all."

"Shame," a commissar joked. "I could have used some more death-defying action today, but it looks like you've sorted out the situation just fine. By the way, why are you throttling that guardsman?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Out! Out! The sacred rituals of the Omnissiah must not be revealed to the uninitiated!" The techpriest ushered us away from the explosives, using all of his organic and mechanical arms to expedite a process I was all too happy to comply with.

"I got it, I got it, no need to get your I/O cables in a twist," the colonel snapped, as he was prodded in the back with a plasma torch. "Alright, Percy, Commissar, and the rest of you, where's that traitor? When I get a hold of him I am going to kill him. Then I'm going to murder him. The little bastard has nearly killed me twice today."

"Calm down, Colonel, we need him alive for questioning," I grinned, as anger seethed off of him. "And I'm afraid we still don't know. There are only so many places on this ship he could have hidden, and we're still searching."

"This was pretty much the last place to hide, and it was going to go off in pretty short order after we arrived. Don't suppose he'd try to take an escape pod off of here?"

I shook his head, going over the security protocol that the provosts had laid down during the chaos. "Possible. We're in range of the planet, after all, and most of the non-essential crew is pooled around the pods incase we need to abandon ship. The provosts are checking on them now, incase he tries to slip in."

"In range? Wait… are the hanger bays…?"

"All were secured. One was depressurized, though, but unless he had a pressure suit, he wouldn't be getting very far. Unless he had a suit…" As I said this, it struck me that, given everything else he had been able to pull off, a pressure suit might not have been the hardest thing to acquire. The colonel seemed to think this as well; we glanced at each other and yelled.

"BUGGER!"

* * *

As much as I would have liked to make hunting down a dangerous saboteur someone else's problem, it would have been problematic for my reputation if a Commissar of my status did not take action to apprehend the man. So, I found myself leading the colonel, the guardsman he had been strangling, and a loose collection of officers that had been with me in the briefing room accompanied me back out of the cargo bay and to the hangers

Now, by this point in my career, you would think that running though fire and smoke filled halls, with sirens blazing, in a ship that could collapse at any second, chasing after dangerous traitors with the protection of the Emperor as my only guide would be second nature to me by now, but I guess one never really gets used to that sort of thing no matter how many times it happens.

We arrived at the bays just in time to feel the signature trembling that occurred when a starfighter was launched. The provosts guarding the hanger bays stood about uselessly as the saboteur made his escape so it was up to us to take command of the situation.

"What's going on here?" I snapped. "Don't stand there, activate defenses! Shoot him down! Launch a fighter, do something!"

"We can't fly, and most of the weapons batteries are offline!" He replied.

"We can fly."

All eyes turned to the colonel and his hygienically challenged guardsman.

"But sir," the guardsman objected, "We've only flown shuttles!"

"Baldrick, Imperial tech is Imperial tech*. Now get me access to a damn fighter!"

* * *

Two Lightening fighters silently roared out of their hanger bay in pursuit of the saboteur, who had chosen a Lightening for himself as well. Though the Lightening was not a starfighter, it could be piloted by one man unlike the Fury Interceptor which required a crew of three – pilot, navigator, and gunner. On the up side, this meant that his craft was not more powerful. On the down side, he would be able to pilot and operate weapons instead of being forced to choose between one or the other.

"Evasive maneuvers!" Edmund shouted, as the enemy swung around and opened fire. "Balrick, cut him off! Keep him in range of the ship's weapons!"

"Understood, my lord," Baldrick replied banking right to avoid the burst of lasfire. He quickly brought the enemy fighter into his sighs and fired the autocannon, only to have the rounds miss by several dozen feet.

The enemy made a sharp dive and dropped in place behind Edmund's craft.

"I hate to be a pessimist, my lord, but it does seem that he knows what he is doing while we do not," Balrick commented, trying to bring the target back in his sights.

"Shup up and help me out!" Edmund screamed as a lasfire streaked past his cockpit. "Open fire!"

A volley of laser beams issued forth from Baldrick's fighter, several of which scored direct hits on Edmund.

"BALDRICK! IF YOU KILL ME I SWEAR I'LL MURDER YOU!" Edmund yelled as he pulled up. The next thing he knew, he was headed straight for….

"What in the thousand trickeries of Tzeentch is that?" Edmund stared, forgetting for a moment that he was in a dogfight. "Is that… a box?

A giant wooden box with a clock on one face went hurling past him. A box.

"No time for that, Edmund, pull yourself together and shoot the bastard down."

He quickly looped back to see that the enemy was now harassing Baldrick. Edmund angled the nose of his fighter down and lined the enemy craft up with his targeting reticule. The lasfire raked the top of the fighter, but a sudden brake by the target caused Edmund to overshoot. The enemy was now tailing him again.

"Do a barrel roll!" Baldrick warned, saving Edmund from a fiery death as the enemy pummeled him with lasbolts.

"This is getting EXTREMELY repetitive," Edmund yelled, as he kept dodging. "Someone do something!"

As if on cue, one of the ship's weapons batteries swerved in their direction and a graviton pulsar fired, cutting the enemy in half.

"Hope I didn't cut it too close," the commissar's voice came in over the radio. "It was frak getting the power back, but I think it worked out in the end. By the way, did anyone notice that box?"

* * *

*Most definitely not true. The one time I was forced to escape a hoard of angry Khorne Berserkers using an abandoned Land Speeder can best be described as a disaster. Fortunately, several White Scars noticed the rampaging Land Speeder and showed up to assist me in time.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Well Baldrick, I think we may safely call this one a success after all," Edmund commented jovially as they climbed out of the fighters.

"Indeed it can be, my lord, though I must wonder why you saw it necessary to chase the man down given your usual penchant for staying out of the way when bad things happen."

"Baldrick, let's just say that I am a complex character with many motivations in life, and that the only sure lesson to be learned here is to not make me angry."

Edmund stepped through the hanger bay doors to be greeted by a glorious cheer.

"Hip hip hooray!" the crowd roared. "Three cheers for Commissar Cain! He shot down the traitor!"

Edmund sputtered incoherently as someone pulled out a guitar and started singing a hymn in praise of "the heroic deeds of Commissar Cain, Hero of the Imperium."*

"That's who that was? The tall git! He stole my kill and my credit!" Edmund fumed. "I get shot and while he presses a button on an automated weapons battery! That's all he did, press a damn button on a console – a heroic task, I'm sure, perilous in the extreme, with the change of a painful and burny death omnipresent. What do you think of that, Balders?"

"Hooray for the Commissar!" Balrick yelled as he made his way over to an impromptu beer stand.

"Emperor sod it all."

* * *

"Just keep scanning for that box," I told the gunner, patting her on the back as I let her back onto her seat. "If you'll excuse me, I think our superiors will want to hear of this – we've just lost our main lead on the case."

Out in the hallway, I was met with a grateful crowd, of the type that I had become greatly familiar with in my years as commissar. Knowing that any attempts to dissuade them from the idea that I had single-handedly saved the day somehow - I merely pushed a button after the gunner had figured out how to reroute power to the weapons array – I stood around awkwardly and endured their praises the best I could. However, the second time they decided to parade me about on their shoulders I felt I had to put a stop to their gratitude before the higher ups caught wind of what was going on.

Fortunately, help arrived in the form of a fellow commissar, whose presence I would learn to dread in the following months.

"Off, off, we need to get him off don't you know?" Commissar George barked, as he cleared a path with his swagger stick.

"Nice to meet you sir, what a smashing piece of work back there," he congratulated as he finally made his way over and liberated me. "Positively corking."

"Thanks?" I ventured cautiously, assuming that he was paying me a compliment. "Did you say something about getting off of here?"

"Oh yes, well quite, you see we're going to have to abandon this ship for now, and General Melchett has insisted that you fly in our shuttle, seeing as your regiment is on a different ship. If you'll just follow me to the hanger bay?"

* * *

"Well done Cain!" General Melchett greeted me as I climbed aboard his private shuttle. "Damn inspiring bit, blowing up the heretic. Best part of the day, isn't it?"

"Of course, sir. Nothing brings one more joy than seeing the enemies of the Imperium undergo explosive decompression," I agreed, casting my eyes out for Amberly. "Although I must point out that two guardsmen risked their lives keeping him in range until we were able to get the weapons online again. Guardsman Baldrick and his colonel, I believe. Perhaps some commendations are in order?"

"Blackadder?" The general's aid snapped in surprise, barely managing to suppress a burst of hostility. "What was he doing out there?"

"Evidently he knew how to fly," I shrugged, taking a seat opposite to the general.

"And damn fortunate it was, otherwise our man would have gotten away," General Melchett blathered on, in his usual self satisfied manner. "A round of commendations all around! Darling, make a note of it."

The sour faced aid scribbled something down in his dataslate, clearly unhappy with the recent turn of events, as the general dictated his plans for a speech and award ceremony.

"Pardon me," I asked, interrupting his thoughts on confetti, "But where is the Inquisition? I was hoping to report this matter to the Inquisitors as well."

"They requisitioned a shuttle and left as soon as the chaos had settled, on some Inquisitional business." Melchett replied. "Pity, wish they'd have stayed. The Whiteadders were so enlightening, with their many ways of roasting heretics and whatnot."

I nodded, glad that Amberly was safe. "And my aid?"

"Oh, well – he's with your regimental officers. I though that his… hygene issues may not have been appropriate for the General's shuttle," Darling explained. "Just settle in and relax, we'll be planetside and back together in no time."

"Hear hear!" George cheered, raising a flask. "Bottoms up to killing xenos for the glory of the Emperor. Time to show the insidious Tau and the villainous Ork that none can resist the armies of Man! Let's kick their differently colored arses from here to the old Bailey and then drop by for a drink, some darts, and a nice, piping hot potato!"

"Baa!" Melchett agreed.

* * *

*Ode to the Heroes of the Imperium, the main theme of the Commissar Cain holoseries. I had the misfortune to hear it sung about no matter where I went for the next day or so.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"At least the shuttles are still working," Edmund muttered, strapping himself into his seat. "Percy, what's the situation on the ground? Are we going to get shot at repeatedly again or what?"

"Well, Edmund, I have been studying the data slates at some length, and I am happy to report that we won't be blown to smithereens this time, for even though the xenos control large portions of the central desert, their anti-aircraft batteries are not strong enough to reach our strongholds in the north." Percy replied from the seat across the aisle. "Unfortunately, since we are going up against the Tau, who can shoot us, and the Orks, who have threatened to 'rip out our arms and smack us 'umies o'er the head in a right good manner', I cannot guarantee things will be as smooth once we start fighting."

"Well I'm certainly not going to let some smelly, barbaric, bumbling xenos or one of those filthy greenskins be the end of me. Rest assured, we're going to get though this one alright. In the time we were in the void, I came up with no less than seventeen different plans for surviving this situation, sixteen of which involve the use of Baldrick's corpse to ward off certain death."

"And the seventeenth?"

"I defect to the winning side and kill Baldrick to please my new alien masters."

"How... unorthodox." A familiar dreadful smell filled the air as another person boarded the shuttle.

"Yes, I know, sod off Baldrick." Edmund snapped, massaging his temples in anticipation of the coming headache that always accompanied interactions with Baldrick.

"I'm sorry, but you must have me confused with someone else," the man replied, sitting down next to Edmund. The odor was truly offensive at this proximity, bad enough to cause Percy to bolt and seek refuge in the forward section of the shuttle. Edmund, who was restrained by webbing, did not have that option available to him and resigned himself to another round of suffering courtesy of that vengeful man on Terra.

"Name?" He asked, curtly. "Rank, and date of last shower?"

"Gunner Jurgen, sir. Valhallan 597th. 1332998M41, a quarter after noon on a rather pleasant Emperor's Day," the soldier responded politely. "I'm sorry to intrude, but I was assigned to evacuate with you. General Melchett's aide ordered me here to accompany you."

"Typical of Darling," Edmund muttered. "Well, you're in the right spot. I have a feeling you'll make fast friends with at least one person in this outfit. And here he is now, 'Socks and Sweat' Baldrick, leading the rest of the company from far ahead, because none dare follow him too closely."

* * *

Edmund wanted to throw up. The shuttle never agreed with his stomach, and the fact that the two most malodorous soldiers in the Imperium had struck up a fast friendship, bonding over their mutual appreciation of turnips, was not helping. His sense of self preservation swiftly dictated that he ignore standard safety protocols, undo his restraints, and seek safer grounds. He staggered past Sergeant Able, trod on the toes of a Kriegan commissar, flew through the air past two senior Valhallan officers as the shuttle encountered a rough patch of turbulence, landed on Percy, and tumbled right up to the cockpit door.

"If the amphetamine crazed monkey flying this thing can spare a moment, I'd like to ask how bloody long will it be until we're on solid ground!" Edmund yelled, banging on the door to get the pilot's attention.

"Sir, with all due respect," the pilot responded with a forced calmness, "Get the frak back to your seat and stay there until the fasten seat belt sign turns off."

Something very loud and explody burst outside the shuttle and Edmund found himself pinned against the ceiling by g-forces as the shuttle spiraled down towards the surface and the cabin filled with smoke. The sound of machine gun fire came from outside, followed by the sound of a very crude jet engine rushing past them.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the pilot droned in the same artificially smooth voice that he had been using earlier, "I regret to inform you that we are being attacked by the orks, have lost power to the engines, and are currently plummeting towards the ground at roughly twice the speed of sound. If you would take a moment to pray to the Emperor for me, I would be much obliged. Also, if anyone is on good terms with the Omnissiah, now would be the time to try and call in a favor."

"Percy, do something!" Edmund shouted to his psyker. "I can't kill Baldrick from over here!"

"I can't lift the shuttle, Edmund, we're too heavy," Percy cried. "And the orks are too far away, and we'd have to open the shuttle doors anyways to shoot lightening at them, I'm upside down, and I don't -"

"Engines! We've lost power to engines!" Edmund realized. "You can make electricity, right?"

Percy nodded and Edmund turned towards the others the best he could. "Someone find the power conduit!"

As the shuttle erupted into a frenzy of activity, Edmund pushed against the ceiling and crawled towards the seats next to the wings, where a power conduit would most logically be located. As luck would have it, a female officer yelled that she found the conduit, and removed a smoking panel below her feet to reveal an array of fried circuitry. A soldier opposite of her did likewise to a panel next to his feet, but his massive muscles prevented him from reaching down into the circuits. Edmund looked up at the mess, then down at Percy who was struggling with his seat belt. There was only one thing to be done, and he was probably the only one who could do it.

Edmund tightened up his scumball muscles and leapt up wards towards the circuitry. The g-forces shortened his jump, but he managed to catch onto the muscular soldier's harness, then grab onto the underside of his seat, and finally swing a hand to reach into the conduit and grab half of a thick rubber tube leading to the wings. It had been severed in half and a length of copper wire exposed, so Edmund yanked the tube out and motioned for the woman to do the same.

"Percy, over here!" Edmund yelled, as the woman pulled out her length of tubing. "Hit the wire!"

Percy dropped his belt buckle and shot a steady stream of electricity past half the passengers at the exposed copper wires, causing Edmund's hair to stand on end as an ungodly amount of electricity rushed between his hands. The engines came back to life with a harsh whirling sound and the shuttle quickly regained control. Edmund's joy at not having to crash into the planet was short lived, however, as the shuttle righted itself causing him to drop towards the ground and the wire that he had exposed. Edmund braced himself for a painful demise as he fell towards an electric doom, and stopped an inch short of Percy's stream of lightening.

"Got you," the strong man exclaimed, holding onto Edmund by the waist.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Edmund found himself staring across the narrow aisle at the officer across from him, who had bent over to hold onto her own wire and, as a consequence, allowed a man in his position to catch a good helping of cleavage, which was lit up brilliantly by Percy's lightening. Their eyes locked, and Edmund decided it was probably best that he did not let her catch on to the fact that he was seconds away from determining her cup size.

"Colonel Blackadder, 23rd Percian Light Infantry Regiment, serving under General Rowan." He introduced himself the best he could considering that he was upside down and holding a very live wire.

"Colonel Kasteen, Regina, Valhallan 597th," she responded reflexively. "Weren't you poisoned earlier?"

"I was, but my poisoner was a tit." Edmund kicked himself mentally for the slip, hoping she would not notice. "The medicae nipped it in time and gave me a clean breast of health."

Fortunately, Kasteen was prevented from noticing his misstatements as the shuttle pulled up abruptly in order to level itself with the ground and throw off the ork fighters. The shuttle careened to the left and right as missiles screeched past the cabin and bolter fire splattered the ground only a dozen feet below.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking." Excellent, further distractions. "Praise be to the Machine God that we are not going to become fully integrated with the topsoil. We are currently approaching the landing pad far lower and faster than intended, and as a result we will be deploying inertial dampeners to full and the emergency drag chute. Those who do not wish to suffer whiplash are advised to buckle up and sit tight. Have a nice day."

Before Edmund could figure out what to do, the shuttle came to an abrupt halt. There was a resounding "whump" sound as the drag chute was released, and a high pitched whining filled the air as the inertial dampeners stopped the shuttle and prevented everyone inside from becoming a particularly unpleasant bloody paste. It quickly became evident that they had been traveling too fast for even the inertial dampeners to compensate for, and true to the pilot's predictions, the crew found their seatbelts straining to keep them in. Percy's lightening shot wild and scorched the ceiling as the man holding Edmund lost his grip and let go, sending Edmund flying towards the pilot's door for the second time that day. He landed back first and bounced off off the door, ending up falling on his face as the shuttle came to a complete stop.

Edmund noticed a pair of boots standing next to his head and looked up to see Colonel Kasteen extending a hand towards him. She helped him up, picked up his hat which had gotten lost in the chaos, and slapped him upside the head with it.

"That was for peeking," she stated coolly, tossing it to him with a mocking salute before departing.

"Baldrick," Edmund uttered after five minutes of stunned silence, "I think I'm in love."

* * *

The Imperial Guard's main base of operations was located in the Albenesis mountains. From their well insulated position, the Guard could afford to consolidate their strength against the alien onslaught in preparation for the counter-offensive. Unfortunately, the arrival of General "Bleating Mad" Melchett meant that such a consolidation would happen over his dead mustache; ten groats to one, he would be whipping the men into shape for a glorious charge at the enemy followed by a swift decimation in the Emperor's name, the grox fondler.

It was with a due sense of dread that Edmund entered into the strategic operations room of Albenesis base, no doubt so that he could be assigned another blatantly suicidal mission by the general staff. On the plus side, there was a chance of seeing Kasteen again, which might make up for the insanity. His eyes wandered around taking in the ambiance - which mainly consisted of bad lighting and cigar smoke so thick that one commissar had taken to wearing a Kregian gas mask - before finally finding Kasteen around the holographic map in the center of the room, talking animatedly with Ciaphas Cain.

Of course she would be; Edmund had long since grown used to his luck, and it seemed quite fitting that the woman he fancied would be serving with the man he loathed. He sulked around the darkness of the room until General Melchett bleated loudly and called everyone to attention.

"Attention! Officers, it is now my pleasure to announce that, Emperor willing, our glorious crusade to save the people of this agriworld from the ravages of the xeno invaders shall now commence!" General Melchet declared it with his usual display of irritating pompousness and undue fondness for long sentences with far too many articles separated by commas.

"For far too long, the brave soldiers of the Imperial Guard have sat around doing blast all, but never fear, now shall come the time for action! As of now, I am immediately ordering the mobilization of all regiments in a drive to the planet's main industrial center of Simir, which even as we speak is being held by the Tau and contested by the Orks!"

It was really par for the course given that it was a Melchett idea. Next, he'd probably talk about a glorious bayonet charge in the Emperor's name.

"- and of course, the Tau, being weak and unmanly, shall surely fall before the force of our bayonets as we charge at them through a field of plasma fire protected by our faith in the Emperor!"

General Melchett had reached the point in his blathering where he seemed to be confusing conviction in the divinity of the Emperor with deflector shields. Edmund harbored the suspicion that Melchett's mustache was in fact an alien parasite that grew by leeching nutrients from the man's brain. It seemed more plausible every time they met; perhaps it would be a good idea to talk to his Aunt about having him thoroughly purged just in case.

Purplish red in the face now from a lack of oxygen, General Melchett finished his grand speech with a striking pose and held his head aloft as if expecting thunderous applause for his stunning insight into the matter. The only sound that he received aside from the hum of logic engines was a very slow, very sarcastic clapping that probably went over his head.

"A marvelous idea, General, but if I might make some tiny suggestions?" Edmund asked, as he brought his hands against each other to a slow, dull beat.

"Such as?" Melchett still had an idiotic smile on his face as he basked in the glory of the moment.

"Well, the details might need some changing, such as the part where we go into enemy territory without any reconnaissance or knowing what we're up against."

"Nonsense! We know what we're up against from this book," Melchett thundered, pulling out his well worn copy of the _Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer. " _"Weakling cowards who can't take a punch to the face, and dull witted green brutes who wouldn't understand stratiegery if it showed up stark naked and bit them on the behind! Surely none such enemies can hope to stand before the might of our strength and cunning!"

Edmund carefully calculated how sarcastic a reply he could make without getting caught, but was unfortunately upstaged as Ciaphas Cain leaned into the table and raised his hand.

"If I may?" He asked smoothly and took the momentary silence following his entry into the conversation as permission to continue. "While I find General Melchett's faith to be laudable, the great Tactica Imperialis, contains many treasties on the use of intelligence gathering, as does the Codex Astartes. It really does serve our purposes here to make full use of reconnaissance, as exploiting the weakness of our enemies to bring about their destruction as swiftly and painfully as possible surely pleases the Emperor more than blind sacrifice. After all, it is through the destruction of our _enemies _that we earn our salvation, not the destruction of ourselves."

"Oh yes, but of course," Melchett agreed, in awe that he was receiving tactical advice from the HERO OF THE IMPERIUM himself. "When you put it like that, it seems much more reasonable. I say, I wish I had your spunk, but damn my aging body... yes, yes, I think reconnaissance before heading out would be a superb idea, would you care to lead it?"

There was a brief, almost imperceptible pause in the conversation when the Commissar heard the suggestion; if Edmund did not know better, he would have thought the man was scared.

"No problem at all," Cain replied gracefully. "Nothing would honor me more than personally ensuring the demise of our adversaries."

"Splendid, I'll have you assigned right away. Oh blast it, where's Darling?" Melchett shouted for his petty officer, who hurried to the table with a stack of papers clutched to his chest. "Darling, we'll need to get the Commissar attached to a recon unit right away. Who do we have on hand?"

Darling grinned maliciously as he caught Edmund's eye. "Isn't our Light Infantry regiment trained for this sort of thing, sir?"


	10. Chapter 10

I have never liked general staff meetings; it seemed like every one of them inevitably degenerates into a thinly veiled excuse to send me on some sort of insanely suicidal mission for the glory of the Emperor. That is the one thing about being a Hero of the Imperium which I have never enjoyed; just because you are capable of stopping a charging knarloc dead in its tracks with a bag full of marbles and the season 4 holodisks of Dropship Troopers, people not only assume that you enjoy such dangerous activities, but that they would be remiss in their duties if they did not put their best efforts into providing you opportunities to do so.

Of course, it was as much my fault this time as anyone else's. I was the one who had put the idea of performing proper reconnaissance into General Melchett's head instead of wastefully sacrificing guardsmen, a tactic that far too many generals seem to adopt when faced with a problem more challenging than opening a baked potato.

Despite my reluctance to participate in the bowl-shattering experience of being caught between Ork axes on one side and Tau guns on the other, years of experience dealing with being volunteered for unpleasant missions automatically kicked in and I reflexively adopted my best regicide face. I accepted the mission with a trite platitude concerning my eagerness to destroy the enemies of Man.

After a bit of discussion, it was decided that I would join a light infantry unit, which struck me as one of the more favorable outcomes; unlike scouting vehicles, experienced soldiers could be deadly quiet and almost impossible to spot. General Melchett's aid quickly introduced me to a Guard colonel, who to my surprise turned out to be the same fellow I had met aboard the transport ship. His face displayed a curious mixture of emotions, while his eyes glared daggers into Captain Darling. No doubt there was a back story of rivalry and hatred between the two; it is a sad fact that such tensions often exist between the command structure of the Guard.

"Well, I'm glad to see you made it out alive," I said in my best sympathetic voice, in an attempt to smooth things out. This succeeded in shifting the Colonel's attention from the captain to me, though he still seemed to be struggling to contain himself. While most people are impressed beyond measure when they hear my name, the reaction cannot be said to be an universal one. The fact that I am a Commissar means that fear of the strict discipline of the Commissariat follows in my wake. And while fame and glory does bring me many advantages, there are those have become jealous of my success.

"I heard you helped save a shuttle on the way down," I continued. "Colonel Kasteen spoke quite highly of your quick thinking. The Valhallan 567th is in your debt."

There is nothing like a bit of flattery for improving a man's opinions of you, though in this case it also happened to be true. The regiment would have suffered greatly without Kasteen's leadership, but even an outstanding officer like Kasteen was ultimately expendable. A blank like Jurgen, on the other hand, is so rare that he is simply irreplaceable. And aside from the loss to the Imperium he would have represented, I would have missed him terribly. Powers as a blank and utter lack of personal hygiene aside, he is a good friend, loyal soldier, and the only person I have ever truly trusted in my life.

"Well, you know what they say. All in a day's work, for Emperor and Imperium." The colonel shrugged in an attempt at indifference, though I could tell that he was positively glowing with pride deep inside. Captain Darling must have picked up on it too, for his face turned the most amazing shade of magenta upon hearing my compliment and his left eye began to twitch.

"So what was your name?" I asked him, gesturing for us to take the conversation elsewhere, and conveniently leaving Captain Darling behind us. "I'm afraid I never caught it in all the excitement."

"Colonel Edmund Blackadder," he replied, extending his hand. I shook it and then suggested that we leave the meeting.

"Why don't you introduce me to the scouting party while they plan a mission for us," I asked, eager to depart before the general staff could imperil my existence any further. Colonel Blackadder nodded and shot a very smug look at Captain Darling before we walked out of the planning room. Once outside, he quickly waved his hand and summoned a motorcar for us. The driver turned out to be a rather attractive young blonde, who gave us a crisp salute the moment she had parked the vehicle.

"Driver Bob Parkhurst reporting for duty, sir!" She said to Blackadder, who rolled his eyes and returned the salute without much enthusiasm.

"Take us to the regiment, driver," he ordered as he climbed into the car.

"Bob, eh?" I asked as I followed suit. "Odd name for a girl."

"Oh, well it would be, Commisssar, but I'm a guy," she laughed nervously. "I field strip my lasgun for fun, get into arm wrestling contests, and make rude noises in the lavatory and everything!"

I looked over to see how the colonel was responding to the odd soldier, and found him massaging his temples in exasperation.

"Bob, we are a mixed gender regiment," Blackadder said, with great irritation in his voice. "No one cares if you're a woman, so will you please stop pretending to be otherwise?"

Bob began to tear up and fixed her eyes on the road in front of us as she started up the car. "I just want to be a man," she whispered softly.

Blackadder buried his face in his hands as the motorcar sped off towards his regiment's barracks. I was rendered momentarily speechless myself, but quickly recovered and sought to repair the mood in the car.

"So tell me about your regiment," I asked as casually as possible given our driver's revelation. If there is one thing all Guardsmen share in this wide Imperium of ours, it is a pride in their homes. Inviting one to talk about his personal history is an excellent ice-breaker. Not only does it create the impression that you care about them, but it also allows you to learn details that might not have made it into the mission briefings.[1]

"Not much to say, really," Blackadder shrugged. "We were tithed from an agri-world in the Percia system and have been shipped around the sector for the past decade or so. Most of us specialized in scouting because the majority of our population spend more time chasing rabbits than heretics. It seems to have worked out for everyone so far, though."

The news did not do much to bolster my mood. Guardsmen recruited from agri-worlds tended to be just above PDF regiments in terms of quality, unlike troops from places like Valhalla or Cadia, whose cultures tended to take war much more seriously and, therefore, produced higher grade soldiers. Still, Blackadder's men had managed to survive thus far as scouts, so a dedicated reconnaissance mission was at least playing to their strengths.

Of course, if I had known where our mission would have taken us, I'd have ordered the driver to take us to the landing pad and boarded a transport back to Segmentum Command.

[1] Which Cain never bothered to read anyways.


End file.
